I own nothing.
Afterimage: a psychological term meaning an image that remains after the stimuli causing it has ceased. If it is such, Byakuya wonders what they mean by that; after all, no stimuli can ever truly leave.
Everything that was once hers has been put away—it was not difficult; Hisana did not hoard possessions and neither did she ever possess much interest in material wealth. They are not destroyed; they wait, gathering dust, in dark rooms where sunlight never shows.
The servants never speak of Hisana in their master's presence; they know better, they know better than to risk the harm that might fall on them if they tried. Grief is too raw, too fresh for any of that, and it isn't the place of the servants to speak to their master anyway.
There is nothing left of Hisana where Byakuya can see except an empty space in the tatami beside him and a small, sun-damaged photograph hidden behind a door.
Well, there is Rukia.
There is left of Hisana her sister, though the child is not aware of the connection, and if Byakuya can help it she shall never know. Their resemblance is uncanny, remarkable, damning. There's little that Byakuya can use to differentiate between them; Rukia's voice is not as soft as her sister's and that's about it.
They say afterimage refers to something that remains in the mind after all possible stimuli is gone.
Byakuya says that this is wrong.
He can still see Hisana here, and there is plenty that can refer back to her. It's an afterimage pasted over her sister's face, resting on linen sheets no longer touched and glossing over a flat photograph that never really caught her spirit.
She's still everywhere, and everything and nothing contains her image.
There's no escaping that.